


The Warmth of Our Held Hands

by Lilyliegh



Series: Arc-V Rarepair Week 2017 [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, F/F, Fluff, Sick Character, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: The snow would be much prettier to look at if Serena wasn't freezing. Then again, Ruri is more than eager to take her home and snuggle her.





	The Warmth of Our Held Hands

**Author's Note:**

> for arc-v rarepair week: day 03 - winter. so much fluff omg

Serena stomps her boots on the ground outside of the library, kicking off the bits of clinging snow. There’s more on her leather jacket and in her hair, which she dusts off before she steps into the building. It’s the first week of snow in Maiami, and despite everyone else seeming quite pleased by the winter wonderland outside, Serena hates it. The snow is cold and wet, and it chills her to the bone.

It doesn’t help that the library isn’t paying their the heating bill. The room temperature is lukewarm; somehow, she is the only one shivering. The guests sitting on the couches or at the computer tables are dressed warmly in thick jackets and long scarves. Hats and gloves rest beside them for when they leave into the blustery cold.

Huffing, Serena tucks her chilly hands under her armpits and storms her way towards the help desk. Both Ruri and Sayaka are there, sitting side-by-side and typing away at their computers. With the colder weather, Ruri has broken into her assortment of cosy turtlenecks and long skirts; a jasper brooch sits on her chest. She looks up when Serena approaches, smiling.

“How was the walk?” she asks.

“Cold.”

Ruri laughs. “You should’ve picked up some tea then. That would’ve warmed you up.”

Serena feels her face heat up despite how chilled she feels. It’s a good idea, and she longs for a hot drink she can wrap her hands around. Hot chocolate would be even better, creamy and rich on her tongue. It would warm her from the inside-out –

She coughs self-consciously, drawing herself from her musing. “Well, I didn’t. I came here right away.”

Sitting on Ruri’s desk are two books that haven’t been shelved yet, and ones that Serena knows Ruri wasn’t planning on putting away. Ruri reaches over and hands them to Serena. They’re heavy books with large pages. On the covers of each are oil paintings, colours splotched and blotted and dragged across the canvas. Ruri has been practicing painting for a solid month now, focusing on how brush strokes acts as a voice in a painting.

They’re for Serena to read.

“Take them with you,” Ruri says. “I’ll be over there in a few minutes, just need to finish sending off a few e-mails.”

Serena pulls the books to her chest, making herself as small as possible to conserve body heat. “Sure.”

The spot in question is the 800 shelves, the art section that both Serena and Ruri frequent. Serena first met Ruri here, noticing how the librarian always shelved this row and how she timed her shelving to whenever Serena would be there. From that moment, Ruri had struck a conversation with her, then a friendship, and then love.

Serena drops to the floor and kicks up her feet on the opposing shelf. Now that both she and Ruri are dating, Ruri has been saving her books to read when she stops by. She has found art books and queer autobios for her; once, Ruri passed her two travel books to the beaches of Academia.

“Wouldn’t this be a lovely place to visit?”

The books Ruri has found for her today are about the techniques of oil painting on canvas. Most of the reading is technical, but there are enough bright pictures to keep Serena enraptured. The artworks in this book are stunning; Serena suspects Ruri is studying the art so she can try to replicate it. However, Serena has seen Ruri’s artwork. It’s sloppy and crude for an amateur, but there’s passion. Serena has found Ruri in her study with paint on her nose and her hair tied up high in a bun, looking thoughtful before a canvas as tall as her.

These books are an inspiration for Ruri.

Serena slams the first one closed. It’s not her cup of tea.

The second one is more engaging because it details the historical influences on oil paintings. This is interesting to Serena because she likes to know how societal pressures can alter how art is taken up as a craft or profession. The Arc-V catastrophe didn’t happen on its own; there were many intersecting powers at work. Thus, the more a book can tie history into it, the more interested Serena will be.

Her nose starts to run as she’s finishing up the second book, and she has to hold her jacket sleeve to her face to cover it. Her hair is damp from the snow and her clothes are no better. She has half a mind to tell Ruri to turn up the heat in the building before someone dies of hypothermia, when Ruri does appear around the corner with her trolley. Out of her desk, Serena can now see just how warm Ruri is. Her clothing is thick and layered; she belongs in an enchanted forest instead of a library.

Tilting her head to the side, Ruri asks her, “Is everything OK, Serena?”

“Why wouldn’t it –” Oh. Her voice is muffled by the sleeve over her face, and hastily she pulls it  away and sniffs hard. “Nothing.” She pushes the books towards Ruri to reshelve. “The first one was too boring, more like a children’s book than anything else. The second one you picked though has potential. You can’t just say art is influential without giving evidence, which is what the first book did.”

“I thought you might like the second one more,” Ruri muses. “I liked the first one for the pictures –”

“A children’s book.”

Ruri chuckles behind a hand. She stretches up to put a sketching book on the top shelf. “Sometimes I like to read, and sometimes I like to dream. Those paintings are so beautiful. I’ll have to show you when you come over next time: in my study there are some printouts of famous oil paintings that I’ve been studying. Kadinsky, Monet, van Gogh – they’re all so talented!”

Serena shrugs. “They also went to art school.”

“Well yes, but I’m not planning on becoming an artist. I just want a hobby.”

_“Another_ hobby.”

“That too.” Ruri takes the two books off the ground and dusts them with her hand. “In any case, I’m glad you enjoyed at least one of them. I’ve got even more at home that I can show you, and I have a new painting too. I don’t have my phone with me, but I’ll show you after work. Do you want to come over tonight?”

Serena nods. A chill runs down her spine and she hunches over, trying to conserve whatever heat is still left in her. If this is hypothermia, she is going to choke whoever keeps this building so cold. She feels terrible, head stuffy and body frozen. When Serena looks up, Ruri has stopped shelving books and squats in front of her.

“Are you cold?”

“What does it look like?”

Ruri rolls her eyes. “I’ll go get you my sweater. Honestly, I know you have warmer clothes than that jacket. You must have a scarf or hat or _something.”_

She doesn’t, but before she can answer Ruri has stood up and walked off to find something warm for Serena to wear. When Ruri comes back, she’s holding a thick, woolen sweater that looks handmade or fair trade, not the kind of clothing Serena buys. She tries to get Serena out of her wet jacket by tugging on the collar, but Serena brushes her off.

“I don’t need help changing.” With a low laugh, Serena pushes at Ruri’s shoulder. “Go on, you’re still working. I’m fine, just a chill. I’ll wear a scarf tomorrow if it’ll ease your mind.”

Ruri dodges her second push, leaning back with a cheeky smirk. When Serena first started dating Ruri, she thought the girl was quite passive. After that week, Serena had been in enough situations to know that Ruri was no pushover.

“I’ll talk to you after my shift, OK?” Before she leaves, she turns around and stretches up to reach a book on the top shelf. She then passes the book to Serena. “It’s about Monet’s painting career. Art with historical influences – that’s your favourite, isn’t it?” And she walks away with her trolley before Serena can answer her.

The book is long enough that Serena doesn’t have to look for anything else until Ruri’s shift is done. As she reads, Serena drags her fingers up and down the pages, envisioning her digit as a paintbrush. She practices the strokes on the full-page paintings like she’s seen Ruri do before. Serena herself is a writer, not an artist, but she can’t help but be interested in something that Ruri is so passionate about. It’s as if Ruri’s passion rubs off onto other people. Serena wouldn’t be surprised if Sayaka was also studying oil painting.

The sweater keeps her warm when she has it over her body and knees, and her arms are out of the sleeves and held closer to her; but when she has to stand and go wait for Ruri at the door, all heat from her body leaves her. She hugs herself with one arm and drags her sodden jacket with the other as she heads towards the entrance. Sayaka is still at her desk and she gives a little wave to Ruri. A kind girl, Sayaka has tried numerous time to talk to Serena. Serena likes Sayaka, but not enough to want to talk to her, especially not today when her head feels like it’s going to explode.

She props herself up against the wall and closes her eyes. Outside, she can hear the wind roaring by and sending snow spiraling through the city. It’s already dark too, the street lamps hazy from the snow flurries.

“It looks beautiful,” Ruri says, coming up to stand next to her.

_It looks terrible._

Serena shrugs. She entwines her arm with Ruri’s and together they exit the building. At once Serena’s hair is in her face and her cheeks are pelted with wet snow; she squints through the storm to see the sidewalk. If Serena wanted to go home alone, she would have to brave the snow to the train station, and then walk from the station to her house. None of that sounds appealing.

It’s a ten minute walk to Ruri’s house.

“Let’s go,” Serena says. She huddles close to Ruri, and together they walk through the snowy streets towards home. The streetlights act as guidemarks to know where the sidewalk ends and where the road begins. There are still dozens of people on the streets, although many of them have umbrellas or winter clothing. Ruri looks warm in her thick, woolen scarf that covers most of her face; on her head sits a matching hat, and the look is completed with complementing mittens. Only her eyes are visible, two pink gems peeking out through the layers of her scarf.

Serena hunches her shoulders, shivering in Ruri’s sweater.

“Why don’t you wear my scarf?” Ruri suggests, already beginning to unwind it from around her neck.

“No, it’s yours. I’m not cold.”

“You’re shivering though –”

“Not cold.” Serena takes Ruri’s hands and guides them back to rewinding the scarf. “I don’t need your clothing, or else we’ll both be cold. And besides, look – there’s your house.”

Ruri lives in a town house, a skinny building crammed between more skinny building on a street so narrow that Serena can’t imagine even parking a motorbike here. The lights are on only on the bottom floor, but even just seeing the house in the snow Serena knows it will be warm inside. She tugs Ruri up the steps and opens the door with her own key; Ruri raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Letting me into my own house?”

“It’s too cold to be hovering around outside,” Serena tells her. They dust themselves off before they step onto the genkan, where they remove their boots and set them to the side. Serena can feel her cheeks warming from just stepping inside the cozy apartment, even though there isn’t any heat on and she needs to warm herself up under the kotatsu.

Thus, as soon as Ruri’s boots are off and her slippers are on, Serena tugs her over the genkan and towards the living room. “We’re staying under the kotatsu all night,” she says.

“I should go make tea first,” Ruri says as she twists her hand out of Serena’s. “You know where to go though – warm yourself up first, and I’ll be right back with tea and snacks.”

Ruri’s house is bigger than it appears; there are several small rooms sectioned off from the larger space. The kitchen is at one corner of the house and the living room at the other. There is a table near the kitchen that Serena often sits at when she visits Ruri; today though it’s too cold to be anywhere but under the kotatsu, which means Serena will have to brave being with Shun.

Shun is Ruri’s older brother, four years older than her and four times the jackass. Serena tolerates him only because he’s Ruri’s brother and she doesn’t want to upset her. Had he not been related to Ruri, Serena wouldn’t tolerate Shun’s grumpy behaviour. He’s too serious and edgy for someone that works as a part-time duel analyst for LDS and who plays MMOs in his spare time.

He’s there under the kotatsu though, laptop on the table and teacup forgotten. If he’s not on his fancy gaming computer, that means he’s doing paperwork. He looks up at her as she flops down on the pillow and tucks her body under the blanket, until only her face his peeking out.

“Cold?” Shun asks.

“It’s a blizzard out there.”

They don’t say anything more.

Ruri comes in with two cups of tea not a moment later. When she spots Serena tucked under the kotatsu, she raises an eyebrow. “I’ll go get you a change of clothes, maybe some warm pyjamas to wear if you’re staying the night.”

Serena shakes her head. “Come sit. It’s warm, and I don’t want to change.”

“You’ll get sick though …” Ruri mutters.

Serena pats the floor next to her. “Sit.”

Ruri settles down next to her. Her feet ghost by Serena’s under the blanket, and Serena wriggles her toes against Ruri’s foot. Then she runs her foot up and down Ruri’s leg, marveling at how smooth it is. With one eye Serena can see the faintest of a blush on Ruri’s cheeks, growing more pronounced as Serena’s leg hikes up past her knee.

When Serena’s foot touches Ruri’s inner thigh, she squeaks, eyes growing wide.

Serena lowers her foot so she can massage Ruri’s calf. “How was your shift today?”

“F-fine,” Ruri answers. She purses her lips. There is a foot on Serena’s calf now, soft and warm. The foot drags along Serena’s legs, past her knee and up her thigh. Even through the fabric of her jeans Serena can feet Ruri’s long toes running up and down the length of her leg. Then Ruri stops at the top of her thigh, toes pointed into Serena’s stomach; gently, Ruri flicks her toes back and forth.

It _tickles._ Serena bites her lip to fight off a giggle in her throat. She didn’t think that was such a sensitive spot on her body, but then again it’s right by her hips, and Ruri knows how ticklish Serena is –

A laugh catches in her throat as Serena’s toes brush against her hip bone. Serena muffles it, rolling a bit to the side.

Shun raises an eyebrow at both of them.

For a moment, Ruri stops. The heat on Serena’s hip recedes even when Ruri’s foot remains on her. It’s even worse than before; the foot taunts Serena, only a few movements away from springing her into giggling and squirming like a child. To her side, Serena can see a devious smirk on Ruri’s pink lips. Gone is her blush; Ruri looks delighted to be torturing Serena like so.

_Flick._ The toes scrape up Serena’s side, under her shirt.

The movement is too fast, too sudden, for Serena. She gasps as Ruri’s toenails scrape against her side, and her breath catches in her throat. Her throat then seizes up, and instead of giggling or laughing, a dry cough comes out. Quickly, Serena slaps her hands over her mouth – she wants no traitorous sounds spewing from her mouth, no laughing or coughing.

Ruri stops at once, foot dropping to the floor next to Serena. She leans over the kotatsu to see Serena squashing back her coughs. “Serena?”

From next to them Shun gives them both a pointed look. “Just _what_ are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Ruri says, just as Serena catches her breath to mutter, “None of your business.” She coughs once into her fist, then fixes Ruri with a glare. “Cheater.”

Only Ruri’s not playing anymore, eyebrows pinched together. She leans further over the kotatsu and puts her hand to Serena’s forehead. If she’s looking for a fever, Serena is ready to tell her that they’ve been playing footsie under the covers for the past ten minutes, and before that she was braving subzero weather. However, Ruri just rests her hand there for a moment before cupping the side of Serena’s face.

“Sorry for making you choke,” she says.

Serena huffs. “As I said before, _cheater.”_ Serena flops back down onto her back. One hand touches her throat, which still feels a bit sore and clogged after all the laughing and coughing. She doesn’t miss Ruri’s eyes still on her, so she makes a point of rolling hers and taking a deep but shaky breath. “We should go upstairs. Your brother’s acting awkward because we’re flirting.”

Shun doesn’t say anything, but by the way his eyebrows crease together and his lips purse, Serena knows what’s on his mind. Ruri gets to her feet and then helps her up, and together they head up the stairs with their tea mugs. On the walk up, Serena asks, “Where’s Yuuto?”

“Sleeping after staying up all night, and maybe even the night before that too.”

Yuuto is Shun’s boyfriend, a fact Serena only learned when she went over to Ruri’s house and caught Yuuto kissing Shun on the cheek. Since then, Serena has said less than a hundred words to either of them. Neither of them are talkers, and she doesn’t know enough about them to even start a conversation. They’re Ruri’s family though, so Serena tolerates them.

Upstairs, the house is one hallway with many doors. All the doors are closed, but Ruri’s is easy to spot: it’s decorated with stickers and glue-on decals, and there is a sign hanging that reads ‘Ruri’ in bubbly katakana. Ruri’s room is similarly decorated: there are splashes of colour everywhere, extending along the walls where her bed and desk lie. The room is pristine, not a pencil or pillow out of place.

Serena makes to settle down on the bed, but Ruri holds her back with a hand on her wrist.

“Your clothes are soaked. Here, let me get you some pyjamas.”

From within the closet Ruri pulls out a set of thick, cotton pyjamas with clouds on them, and a pair of fuzzy, woolen socks. She holds out the clothes to Serena with a gentle smile, then sets them down on the floor when Serena peels off her damp clothing and flings it to the ground. Ruri’s room is still cold; standing in only her underclothes, she quickly pulls on the pjyamas and then climbs into bed.

“Do you want another blanket?” Ruri asks.

Serena nods. “You have heat in this room, right?”

Ruri shakes her head. “Shun and I have been meaning to get a room heater, but we’ve just never gotten around to it.”

“Do it soon,” Serena mutters, “or you’re going to regret it.”

The bed sinks as Ruri climbs into it, nestling underneath the covers and curling her legs around Serena. Ruri is warm as she presses close, head tucked under her chin. “We could get warm like this,” Ruri says. “Just the two of us.” She sighs deeply; Serena can feel her heartbeat by how close they are.

Serena’s body is too hot to notice the flush. She’s so cold, but when she touches her face her cheeks are warm. She suspects they’re also rosy, and therefore she buries herself into Ruri’s chest and remains there until her eyes slink closed. She falls asleep to the sound of Ruri breathing, to the feeling of fingers in her own hair, and to the smell of lavender.

Serena hopes she can wake up to this same smell too.

* * *

 She can’t smell _anything._

Her nose is blocked, her eyes watery, and her throat clogged. Serena lifts her head from Ruri’s chest and feels the congestion slip down her throat. She swallows back a cough and looks up at Ruri. Her face is drawn in a peaceful smile, eyes closed and lips parted just enough for a faint breath to ghost Serena’s hot cheeks. A sliver of sunlight slips through the blinds and creates a halo atop her violet hair.

Sniffling, Serena pulls herself closer to Ruri and tries to match her breathing. Each time Serena breathes in, her chest groans and she wheezes through her open mouth. She should get up, take some medicine, and drink some water, but the thought of getting out of the warm bed – one of the few heated place in the house – and creeping across the icy floor keeps Serena planted in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. She rubs dazedly at her nose and watches Ruri for a moment longer.

The moment lasts until Serena’s throat betrays her and she can’t muffle the cough into the sheets. It tears at her throat, and even as she turns away Ruri’s gentle hands are on her shoulders until she stops.

“I figured something was up yesterday,” Ruri says, voice soft. “Turn around, let’s sit you up a bit. I’ll” – she yawns behind a hand – “get you some water.”

Still not turning around, Serena gropes around above the blankets for Ruri’s hand; locating it, she clings to it by digging her nails into Ruri’s palms. It’s not painful, but the intention is clear: _stay with me, don’t leave me, I want you here._

There’s a sigh, and then a weight descends next to Serena. Two arms wrap around her waist and tug her close. Ruri holds her against her chest once more, still unable to meet Serena’s eyes. A hand lazily runs down Serena’s back and sends shivers down her spine. Serena’s head feels like cotton. She doesn’t remember much of last night, and what she does remember is nearly passing out in various rooms around the house.

With her foot, she pushes back the curtains. The light isn’t from the sunshine, but from the street lights casting an eerie glow on the falling and settling snow. It’s even more of a winter wonderland: the streets are invisible beneath a thick, metre-layer of white fluff. There are still brave fools on the streets, dressed properly in hats and jackets and boots and scarves and –

Oh.

That’s how she got sick.

Ruri’s hand rests against her forehead again; it’s replaced by her lips, cool against the burning skin.

“You have a fever,” Ruri whispers. “I’m going to get you some water to drink now. I’ll be right back.”

The bed shifts once more, and this time Ruri does get up from the bed. Just the slight lift of the blankets sends a cold breeze to Serena’s body, and she flinches from it. It’s embarrassing. She doesn’t want to be ill or weak, and the last thing she wants is to be sick at Ruri’s.

It’s _humiliating._ Ruri hasn’t gotten sick around her, which means she could spread this cold. She needs a mask, and Ruri needs to stay far away.

When Ruri returns with a glass full of water and a cold cloth, Serena holds up a hand before she can step through the doorway.

“Stay there, I’ll get those,” she croaks.

Ruri raises an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side. “What are you on about?”

“I’ll get you sick too … if that even is what this is.”

Ignoring her, Ruri steps through the doorway and settles down once more on the bed. Somehow, she hasn’t turned into an ice cube by being out from under the blankets, though when she presses a hand to Serena’s face, her skin feels like ice. Serena can’t help the hum of relief before Ruri replaces her hand with the cold cloth. It’s not the same, but she still likes it and leans into the gesture.

“Your fever isn’t unbearable – I can tell that without taking your temperature – but you need to rest. Stay home.” Ruri kisses her forehead once more. “I’m going to head out to work soon, but I’ll come back home after my shift –”

“I can go home then,” Serena says. She winces as her feet emerge from the blankets, but she steels her face as she pushes herself to the edge of the bed. She’s going home if Ruri is leaving. There’s no point hanging around her girlfriend’s house if Ruri will be gone all day. She can sleep in her own bed in her heated house, and if she need anything she can yell at Yuuri to get it for her –

A hand on her chest stops her. Gently, Ruri guides her back under the blankets. Were Serena not feeling so shitty, she might’ve fought it just to see who was the stronger one; however, her nose begins to run and she wipes it on her sleeve, looking away embarrassedly. With a chuckle, Ruri pushes a box of tissues towards her, and taps the ridge of the glass she’d set on the end table.

“For you. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, and text me if you need anything from the convenience store. I can stop to get something for you.”

Serena folds her arms and huffs; the sound irritates her throat, and she muffles a weak cough in her hand.

Ruri reaches to her side to grab two books off of her desk. Serena’s hazy eyes take a moment to read the kanji on the cover, but when she does she has to smile. Art books – specifically, oil painting books. Of course Ruri would have brought books home with her. From the covers of these ones, they look to be collections of oil paintings in different epochs. Ruri must’ve been studying from these books, examining just how the artists created such lifelike strokes with their worn brushes.

Ruri holds them out to her. “You can have a look at these, if you’d like.”

Serena _is_ interested in them. She takes both books with shaking hands, setting them next to her nest in the bed. Sneaking a long glance at Ruri’s room, Serena says, “I can go home, honestly. I’ll feel better once I’m moving around a bit.”

“Then you can move around to get yourself a snack when you get hungry.” She stands, smoothing out her nightdress. Even in her pyjamas, Ruri still has an enchanting look to her. Somehow her hair hasn’t become a bird’s nest like Serena’s, and her skin glows in the artificial lighting. She pulls out some clothes and begins dressing, toying with the tiny zippers and buttons that adorn one of her long, sleeved dresses. The thick, velvety fabric cinches at her chest and falls past her hips to sweep the floor.

With one last smile, Ruri presses a kiss to her cheek. “Have a good day.”

Serena’s breath comes out as a gasp: “See ya.”

She nestles into the blankets and wipes at her nose again. Downstairs, she can hear Ruri chatting to her brother; Shun’s gruff voice echoes up the stairwell, sounding condescending even when he’s probably wishing her a good day too. When Serena hears the front door close, she flops back on the bed and moans to herself. Being stuck in bed sounds boring.

Her hands touch the sturdy cover of the books Ruri has left for her. Rolling to her side, Serena lazily flips open the pages and stares inside. Her eyes can’t focus on the bitty kanji along the edges of the book, but if she squints she can see some of the intricate details in the paintings. The way the dress ripples and cascades in the painting reminds Serena of a waterfall; each brushstroke is another stanza of poetry, another note of a song so graceful it makes her heart sing.

Will Ruri ever become the proficient artist she aspires to be? Perhaps.

Will Ruri improve? Certainly.

Serena flips to the next page. It’s a painting of two girls walking down an idyllic path, dressed in angelic, white gowns and straw hats with blue ribbons. Barefoot, they pad through an overgrown forest layered with every shade of green possible on a pallette. Already Serena can imagine the accompanying words to this piece: _two lovers, walking side by side, hand in hand. Two flowers, growing past the path and making their own trails._

Muffling a cough in her sleeve, Serena looks past the book. Ruri had left the door open to get some fresh air circulating through the house; from her spot on the bed, Serena can see the opposite door ajar. Through the slit she spots the edges of a canvas splashed with colour.

Ruri’s art room.

She’s only been to Ruri’s house a handful of times, but from the first time she visited the Kurosaki household Ruri had wanted her to see her artworks. Serena had been surprised: she was protective of her writing, only showing it to those she trusted most. Ruri didn’t seem to mind though. She took her through a tour round the room, displaying her completed works, her in-progress sketches, and even some of her practice canvases where she scrubbed charcoal, pastel, or paint across the surface to blend new colours. Ruri was anything but ashamed of her artwork.

With a shiver, Serena kicks the blankets off of her legs and pushes herself to the edge of the bed. Her feet touch the ground and she grinds her teeth from the coldness that shoots up her legs and settles in her heart. Then she pushes herself off and stands. On shaky legs she makes her way out of the room and into Ruri’s study.

The first thing she sees is how _neat_ the room is. Serena’s writing corner is not clean: she has papers scattered round her desk, outlines and spare documents lying in unorganised piles. Books stacked along the walls threaten to tip if she so much as jumps in the room.

Ruri’s art studio is nothing like that. Her supplies is organised in containers and cups set along several bookcases. There is a drying rack where papers hang by coloured clips; beneath the area is a smoothed sheet without even a crease in it. Her desk is elevated and tipped forward so as to comfort her hand. Currently, there is a sketch on it. The pencil has been returned to its place on the bookshelf. It’s unfair how neat Ruri’s space is.

Most of the drying art pieces are oil paintings. Standing along the top of the bookshelf are four canvases. The first two are abstract pieces, colours mixed and mingled. The third and fourth are conceptual pieces depicting two girls in the snow. Their hands are always touching, their shadowed faces turned towards each other. The girls’ bodies are ethereal in quality by the way the colours seep from their skin and blend with the off-white backgrounds. At times, their dressses melt away into the snow.

It’s them.

Serena feels a smile tug at her cheeks. She looks down at the book in her hands, at the dozens of art pieces depicting girls together, and she wonders if perhaps this famous artist was imaging the same thing as her.

When Ruri returns, Serena is sitting up in bed browsing through the second book. After her eyesight stopped blurring, she’d taken to reading through the books. It was her cup of tea: detailed historical guides to each famous painting. Ruri smiles when she enters with two mugs to tea and a plastic bag hanging off her arm.

“I bought you some soup,” she says. She takes a look at the books on the bed and laughs. “I got you some more books since I figured you’d finish those today. I also called Yuuri and said you’re staying a few days while you get over your cold. He sends his regards.”

“Does he now?” Serena says.

A pause. “No, he says that you’re not bringing your germs into the house, and that you need to stay away until you’re better.”

“That’s more like him.”

Climbing into the bed, Ruri falls against her and nestles into Serena’s chest. This time, Serena has the energy to wrap her arms around Ruri’s waist and tug her close. Ruri is cold from being outdoors, but unlike Serena without a proper coat or hat, she’s not damp. Sighing, Serena buries her nose in Ruri’s hair.

“Your art’s getting better.”

Ruri hums in the back of her throat. “Went exploring today, did you?”

“I did.” Serena clears her throat before continuing. “I … want to take one of those paintings home. I’ll pay you for it, if you want. There’s just one that looks like … us. Like us together. And I really want it in my house to hang in my bedroom, some place Yuuri can’t see it, but if he does I can just then-and-there drop it on him that yeah, that’s me and my girlfriend holding hands.” Another pause. “Those are paintings of us, right?”

“They are.” Ruri tugs her closer, pressing her cheeks to the side of Serena’s neck. “You pick whichever one you want, and I’ll give it to you. Art isn’t meant to be hiding away in a dusty old room –”

“There isn’t dust in that room.”

“You know what I mean. But yes, you can have either of them, or I’ll paint one of you wearing a proper jacket.”

Serena feels her face heat up, so she curls herself up against Ruri. The words are so cheesy, so saccharinely sweet, that she wishes her mind wouldn’t rebel against her and spit them out. Yet she does.

“I’m always warm when I’m with you.”


End file.
